


The One He Loves

by Aishuu



Category: CLAMP - Works, Cardcaptor Sakura, xxxHoLic
Genre: Angst, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Smut, The Livejournal exodus, Trying to Reconcile CCS Clow with XXXholic Clow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 05:05:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7300669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aishuu/pseuds/Aishuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yuuko loves Clow, but Clow is in love with the future. There's no way this ends in anything but angst for all involved. </p>
<p>Regardless, the sex is still good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One He Loves

It's well passed midnight, and they're marking the time with idle speculation, wondering if it's possible to create a magic guardian that isn't paired. She thinks it's possible, but he's being his insufferable self, insisting that the nothing can come into the world without balance. 

Her head is swimming pleasurably from alcohol and good company, and she knows how this night will end. The warm promise in his voice sends shivers down her spine, and it is only her experience that keeps her from giving in to impatience.

Some things need time to be savored, like good sake. They hide their anticipation behind innuendoed conversation and teasing looks. She shifts every now and then, the pull of her low-draped kimono changing across the expanse of her breasts. She notices his eyes on her figure, and his voice takes on a different timbre as the conversation continues. He had the sexiest voice, she thinks.

He was the one who brought the sake tonight, something she considers a good sign. They only have sex after they've reached the appropriate point of inebriation. The times she had to provide the drink are less enjoyable. He broods on things, and he is either a very relaxed or a depressed drunk. Tonight he is in one of those mellow moods she sees far too rarely.

They're almost through the second bottle when he gives her that smile, the one that lets her know he wants her, and is going to have her now. Without speaking, she sets aside her cup and scoots off her divan and onto the cushion he is settled on.

His lips are moist with alcohol, and she licks them, savoring the taste. She feels the silk of his robe against her as he pulls her close. Her long fingers reach up and untie his hair, burying themselves in the thick strands like a spider claiming its web.

He offers a slight sigh and then his hands are pushing the fabric of her kimono off her shoulders, exposing her breasts to the chill of the night air. His long fingers trace circles on her skin, caressing her gently before settling on her nipples and playing. His touch is warm, and she purrs with pleasure as her hands manage to push inside the layers of his robe and meet flesh.

They don't need to talk as they spend the next few minutes dragging their clothes off, tossing them aside as unnecessary. They've done this hundreds of times before, and they know each other's bodies as well as they known their own. She knows that he likes it just a little rough, and he's definitely a breast man. 

He pushes her onto her back, and she smiles, feeling the heat of his skin as he begins to trace kisses along her curves. He sucks her nipples into hard peaks as his hands continue downwards and push her legs apart.

She's already moist, her body primed and anticipating his touch. He's an experienced man and doesn't fumble awkwardly, his fingers going directly to her clitoris and stroking it firmly, eliciting a moan of approval from her. She feels his smile against her skin, and decides to retaliate.

She likes to claw her hands down his skin, leaving scratches on his back that will hurt and remind him of her. She's not sadistic, but knowing that he will be marked as hers makes that selfish part of her soul giddy. She knows, although she doesn't want to think on it, that their time together is transitory.

He doesn't allow her time to get melancholy. He growls at her playfully and she grins back, shifting her hips as she urges him to mount. He doesn't oblige, instead burying his face in her neck and suckling the smooth skin there, tracing the slender column of her throat with his tongue.

It feels good, but she's impatient now. Her head is light enough from the alcohol that she laughs as she forces him to roll over. His chuckle is amused, but a sigh of satisfaction cuts it off as she climbs on top of him.

She likes the feel of his cock inside her as she straddles his hips, rising up and down. His hands reach up and cup her breasts, stroking her nipples, and she moans from the pleasure of it all.

He's not gentle, knowing that she will not break. He holds her hips tightly, encouraging her to move faster. There is a roughness that many familiar with his cultured personality would find surprising, but she realizes that beneath all his power is just a man.

She rocks back and forth, for several moments, feeling the tightening in her body that signals the end is near. His breathing quickens, and his hands force her into place, and he bucks up, once, twice, and then she feels the warmth of his seed inside her. Her body clenches, and his fingers trail to her clitoris again, pushing on it hard. It's enough to send her over the edge, and she gasps at the pleasure.

He always falls asleep quickly afterwards, and she knows that when she wakes up tomorrow, he will already be gone. She understands, better than either of them would ever admit aloud, that they are not meant to be together.

She takes the time to watch his sleeping face. Without the force of his personality behind it, he looks tired. He is much older than she is, although she is very old herself. Both of them are too set in their ways to get along, and as much as she loves him, she doesn't always want him. She cannot live with him, but she does not want to live without him.

He annoys her sometimes with his inability to avoid manipulating situations. She believes in the freedom of choice, even if events are dictated by the semblance of destiny. He is a born meddler, and believes in doing what's best for those involved. He's an idealist; she's a realist. Every decision should have consequences, and protecting people doesn't help them in the long run.

They never fight; neither of them have passionate tempers, although both indulge in irritability. They spent months apart, and other months just as best friends, but it's inevitable that they eventually resume their intimacy. No man – or woman - is an island, not even two of the most powerful beings in all the worlds.

She presses her head against his chest, listening to the steady thud of his heartbeat. She cannot see the future with great clarity, but knows that in the future, she will have to give him up to another woman. He talks in his sleep, and the names he murmurs are of people he has not met, but already loves.

Yuuko knows Clow does not dream of her.  
 _  
(He dreams of a woman with long red hair and a gentle spirit; a beautiful girl who always laughs and wants only to see him happy. He dreams of children, which Yuuko could never give him; a strong talented son with a soul of steel and a playful smile, a girl with beautiful eyes and a cheerful, optimistic personality._

_It is her Clow loves most of all, this daughter of his future self.)_


End file.
